


The Beginning of the Day

by NedrynWrites



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), M/M, Mute Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bring your toothbrush, very brief mention of past dubcon via a bad ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NedrynWrites/pseuds/NedrynWrites
Summary: “Got the whole week to ourselves,” he said, nuzzling up under Eleven’s jaw.  “What should we do today?”It was rhetorical, and Eleven knew it.  He’d know Erik was asking to sleep in, cuddled up just like this.  He slid down to a more comfortable position, Erik refusing to budge under his own power, and set about rubbing circles into Erik’s back until they were both asleep.Or: Eleven and Erik enjoy a lazy morning.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	The Beginning of the Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TalonReads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalonReads/gifts).



> Eleven is mute and uses sign language, depicted within apostrophes.
> 
> Rated Mature for several innuendos that are far too explicit for me to rate this teen in good conscience. And like, swearing. 
> 
> Eleven and Erik are both depicted as adults (obviously). 
> 
> For Talon. Thank you for being my friend, and I hope your week is going better now ♡

The alarm went off, a swear the first word from Erik’s mouth of the morning. He slammed his hand on the table, only just missing it. He grunted in pain, but the infernal racket prompted him to try again, only just bopping it with the edge of his hand. 

“Shit,” he whispered, rubbing his smarting wrist. A soft hum behind him warned him that he’d woken his husband, who clumsily reached out to pat his forearm. 

“‘M fine,” Erik said, interrupted by a yawn. “Sorry, forgot to turn it off.” 

He felt a nudge and rolled over to see Eleven prop himself up on his ungodly high heap of pillows. ‘You didn’t forget to turn  _ me _ off.’ 

Erik groaned. “It was  _ one _ fart.” 

Eleven poked Erik in the chest with a grin. ‘It smelled like something died.’ 

“You didn’t seem too bothered after that.” 

A dusting of pink took over Eleven’s face. ‘Shut up.’ 

“Why don’t you make me?” Erik pushed himself upright with a grin. 

Eleven rolled his eyes. ‘You,’ he said, poking Erik in the chest again with the gesture, ‘are insatiable.’ 

“Says you!” 

Eleven gave him a smug smile then closed his eyes, jutting out his chin. 

“Damn you,” Erik grumbled before leaning in to kiss him. “Your breath stinks,” he said, and kissed him again. 

Eleven smiled against his mouth and pulled him down on top of him. He was so warm. As soon as Erik got his fill on Eleven’s awful morning breath, he snuggled into his chest. Eleven rubbed both hands down his back, then back up well before reaching anything suggestive. He continued the soothing motion a few times, Erik sinking into bliss, before giving his ass a light smack. 

Erik grumbled, not bothering to get up and fuss, and Eleven went back to petting him like nothing happened. 

“Got the whole week to ourselves,” he said, nuzzling up under Eleven’s jaw. “What should we do today?” 

It was rhetorical, and Eleven knew it. He’d know Erik was asking to sleep in, cuddled up just like this. He slid down to a more comfortable position, Erik refusing to budge under his own power, and set about rubbing circles into Erik’s back until they were both asleep. 

* * *

It was rare for Eleven to wake up first. 

His husband was an early riser, a light sleeper at that. So on the rare opportunity he got to watch him, still and  _ quiet _ for once in his damn life, he could enjoy the view all day. Even if his legs were going numb. 

Erik only showed this vulnerable side to him. 

Eleven blinked away the sudden stinging in his eyes. It was too early to be getting emotional. Too early to be thinking about how lucky he was to have Erik in his life, happy and sure and  _ here, _ til death do they part. 

Erik woke to a tight hug. 

“Sheesh,” he mumbled into Eleven’s chest. “You thinkin’ about how much you love me again? So loud, you woke me up.” 

Eleven laughed silently, only hugging him tighter. 

“I love you too, you dork.” 

Warmth curled in Eleven’s heart. No matter how many times he heard it, it always sent joy tingling through his stomach as if it was the first time. He brought himself closer to kiss Erik’s temple, peppered a few on his cheek, before finally pulling their mouths together for a slow kiss. 

Erik opened his eyes only halfway when Eleven pulled away. He had a small smile, looking a bit dazed. “Your breath still smells like ass.” 

With a smirk, Eleven reached down and patted Erik’s butt. Erik shot him a halfhearted glare. “That was  _ your _ idea.” 

Eleven smiled and tilted his head. 

Erik scoffed. “I didn’t say I was complaining about  _ that.” _ He lifted up, Eleven pouting at the loss of warmth. “Come on, brush your teeth. Up you get.” 

Eleven huffed, but got up to follow, if only to cling to his back as he walked toward the bathroom door. 

* * *

Eleven looked beautiful in the kitchen. There was just something about how the window over the sink scattered rays of sun through Eleven’s hair, giving it an ethereal glow. How he smiled peacefully as he went about juggling pancakes and eggs, looking all the world like making something they were going to share was his favorite thing to do. 

Erik had burned the coffee, quite a feat considering they had one of those fancy-ass coffee makers that was supposed to do his job for him. Maybe it was  _ because _ it was fancy-ass. Even after five years, he still wasn’t quite used to the luxuries Eleven’s grandads showered them in. 

It was fine, in any case. Eleven put enough milk in his coffee that it practically turned white, and Erik was still scooping worse taste out of his mouth in the form of his own cooking. 

The night before, he’d been so tired he’d burned everything. Eleven was stubborn and ate all of his anyway, and Erik couldn’t stand seeing food go to waste. Couldn’t let Eleven and his stupid lead stomach beat him, either. 

They had a nice table, a wedding gift from Gemma’s grandfather. They curled up on the couch instead, clumsily balancing their plates and mugs on the edge of the already cluttered coffee table. 

They squeezed together closer than was needed, thighs brushing, arms bumping together as they ate. Eleven slammed his elbow into Erik’s hand, sending his fork and poor pancake piece flying. 

“Nice,” he grumbled, considering how he’d get the syrup out of the carpet. 

Then Eleven kissed his cheek and got up to take care of it himself. Erik forgot why he’d been so frustrated by the time Eleven returned with a clean fork. 

* * *

“Bath?” Erik asked, arms lined with dishes. The mugs were held by the handles in one hand, and they clinked together as he stepped back. 

Eleven raised a brow as he unfolded his hands and stood. 

Erik sputtered. “I’m- just- hang on.” He walked toward the kitchen, Eleven trailing after him like a curious pet. Eleven reached out to help him set the mess into the sink, but Erik shooed him away. “Don’t you dare! You cooked, I wash up, that was the deal remember?” 

Eleven smiled and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. Erik glanced up, and Eleven winked. 

Letting out a short, almost shy-sounding laugh, Erik said, “Just a bath, honestly, I don’t think my ass can take another round just yet.” 

Eleven leaned toward him, the movement drawing his attention. ‘Who said it was going to be  _ your _ ass?’ 

Erik turned his focus back to the dishes, raising his arm to run his fingers through his hair. He stopped at the last second when he realized his hand was still drenched in soapy water. 

Eleven cringed. ‘Sorry,’ he signed when Erik looked back up. ‘Bad joke. We don’t have to do anything if you’re not in the mood.’ 

“Oh, no, El-” Erik clammed up, jaw working silently as he thought it out- “ah, maybe later?” 

‘Of course. Still want a bath?’ 

Erik smiled, shoulders dropping. Even after all this time, the stress wouldn’t leave him. Eleven hoped that one day Erik would wake to the bad memories no longer haunting him. “If that’s okay.” He pointed a sticky fork at Eleven. “I’m washing your hair. It’s nasty.” 

The bathtub was too small for the two, but that never stopped them. They were both relatively small, and they’d never complain about being so close naked, even if it wasn’t sexual. 

Somehow, Erik got Eleven tipped back in the water. His legs dangled out of the tub, dripping a puddle on the floor one of them would surely slip on later. Erik's fingers ran through Eleven’s hair, in no hurry, and Eleven’s eyes drooped. 

“I’m not carrying you out again.” Erik’s voice had a light echo off the tile walls. “I nearly died last time.” 

A lie. They both knew he’d carry him out. 

Still, Eleven didn’t want to sleep through this bliss, Erik scratching his scalp with soapy hands. He tucked his face under Erik’s chin with a hum, twisting to hug him in the water. 

“I can’t wash your hair like this, angel.” He kept running his hands through Eleven’s hair anyway. 

Eleven huffed, nuzzling closer as Erik took to just scratching his scalp lazily, coming down through the strands, kissing his forehead and trailing his fingertips along his shoulders and back. 

Eleven woke to irritated grumbling at the edge of the tub. 

* * *

‘Movie?’ Eleven asked. 

“You choose this time.” 

Eleven stared at the collection of disks helplessly. He was always so bad with being the one to choose anything, so used to other people choosing his every move in life. That didn’t stop Erik from encouraging him to try, though, and he’d gotten more decisive over the years. 

He’d been the one to propose, after all. 

It had started raining in the park that afternoon, a few years ago. They’d ducked into a gazebo, but Eleven looked miserable. Erik hadn’t been able to figure out why - he’d grown up on a farm, had been running to get the chickens out of the rain from the time he was old enough to walk. 

And then he started playing with his pocket. That wasn’t a habit he had. 

Erik shook the images of Eleven’s expression going from pathetic to joy, from joy to tears, out of his head. “Just grab a few. I’ll roll dice. How about that?” 

Eleven smiled brightly and started picking out several. Most were Erik’s favorites. Only one was his. 

“Ready?” Eleven nodded. Erik glanced down at the die in his hand and flicked his wrist, landing, as expected, on the number he’d aimed for. Eleven didn’t need to know he knew how to cheat at dice. Erik wasn’t that person anymore. 

Maybe he did know, though, if that soft smile was anything to go by. 

Eleven sat on his usual spot on the couch, comfortably leaned against the armrest - the one stained from the time his sister stumbled with a glass of wine. Erik sat in his usual spot too - sprawled across the entire rest of it with his feet in Eleven’s lap. 

Eleven warmed Erik’s feet with his hands, rubbing away the soreness from the previous day. He groaned as Eleven dug his fingers into the arch of his foot; it was as if he hadn’t spent a week standing at all. This was worlds better than what his ex did with his feet. 

Erik dug into the popcorn, far more interested in watching Eleven’s changing expressions than the movie. He wasn’t too fond of this movie; he’d never watch it alone. But Eleven’s expressions as he took it all in like it was the first time made up for it and then some. 

Eleven reached out to steal his popcorn, and Erik slapped his hand away. “You touched my feet, you nasty, don’t touch my food.” 

Eleven gave his best puppy eyes and leaned toward him again, like he’d have better luck the second time. Erik held it out of reach like Eleven was a rude kitten. 

“I’ll feed it  _ to _ you. If you’re good.” 

Eleven scowled at him, but returned his hands. He was still watching Erik, so Erik turned his eyes toward the screen feigning interest. He shouldn’t have looked away; the second his attention was elsewhere, Eleven was wiggling his fingers up Erik’s shin. 

In Erik’s flailing, the bowl ended up overturned on the floor. They both gawked at it as the movie played on, uncaring, in the background. 

Erik whirled on Eleven. “You little-” 

Eleven didn’t have the time to shield himself before Erik pounced. It wouldn’t have helped anyway - Erik might not be picking pockets anymore, but he still knew how to get past even the most careful person’s defenses. 

Eleven squirmed away with shrieking giggles. “You started this!” Erik shouted, chasing him down. Eleven made a swipe at his calves again, but Erik had the advantage; that was the  _ only _ spot he was ticklish. Eleven, in contrast, would yelp if Erik breathed on his neck. 

Erik tore after him through the apartment, Eleven knocking over a decorative vase as he ran toward the bedroom. It was undamaged - plastic - and Erik jumped over it, gaining ground. 

Eleven had been too slow to get the bedroom door closed between them, and he shrieked when Erik caught up to him. He squirmed in Erik’s arms as he tickled his stomach, sides, then under the arms, giggling helplessly. Finally, Erik took pity on him. He wrapped his arms firmly around his back, Eleven continuing to search for escape. 

Eleven breathed heavily, even as he relaxed, realizing Erik stopped. 

“You gonna stop doin’ that now?” Erik mumbled against his cheek, before pressing a kiss there. 

Eleven smiled innocently, shaking his head. 

“Least you aren’t a liar,” Erik said. He kissed him again, big and sloppy. Eleven squeaked and yanked away, wiping the spit off his cheek. 

* * *

Erik patted the spot in front of him with the hair brush. 

‘What am I, a dog?’ 

“If last night is anything to go by-” Eleven snickered, and Erik hummed innocently, clashing with the music playing on the radio next to him. “Do you want me to brush your hair or not?” 

Eleven pretended to think about it before crossing the room too quickly. Erik smirked, the smug jerk, but Eleven didn’t give a damn about his pride if it meant he was going to have his hair brushed. 

Erik had been doing that since early in their relationship. He’d wanted to  _ “get his hands in that soft-looking hair,” _ and Eleven was loathe to tell him no. About anything, but especially this. 

If Eleven had to analyze it, he’d say it was some combination of loving head scratches like he was a freaking cat, and the warmth of being taken care of, in the simple act of grooming. Erik used to worry about pulling too hard, Eleven’s hair stubborn and more tangled than it looked. He only stopped worrying when Eleven convinced him to drag him into bed by the hair alone. 

It didn’t take long before Eleven was a puddle and, as Erik put it, purring. He hummed, low and content, an entirely involuntary noise that he didn’t try to fight. He ended up in a heap against Erik’s chest for the second time that day, but Erik wouldn’t make fun of him for it now. He knew the other liked his reactions just as much as he liked the brushing itself. 

Erik sang along to the radio, constantly so far off key it sounded like the wrong note. He may be a good dancer, but he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life. He knew this, he was embarrassed by it, which is what made it so special that he sang like it didn’t matter Eleven was listening. 

Erik trusted him to not make fun. It wasn’t like morning breath, slipping in the shower, letting out a massive fart in his sleep, or anything else stupid and inconsequential. It was important. 

The first three notes of the next song sent Eleven’s drooping eyes shooting wide. He didn’t think this one even played on the radio anymore - too new to be a classic, too old to be the next hot thing. And the way Erik stilled, he was thinking the same thing. 

“This is the song that was playing when you spilled your ice cream on me,” Erik said. Eleven knew, he  _ knew _ that Erik actually meant  _ this is the song that was playing when I told you I loved you the first time. _

They’d been dancing with their cones at a cheesy ice cream shop. Jade and Mia moved to a different table and pretended they didn’t know them. 

“You’re going to make a mess,” Mia had said, before turning back around. And Eleven proved her right. He’d  _ “grinned so bright the sun got jealous,” _ as Erik put it, before those three words dropped from Erik’s lips like it was the thousandth time and not the first, and Eleven forgot that ice cream maybe  _ shouldn’t _ be best friends with the floor. 

Was it cheesy to have an  _ “our song,”  _ like Eleven’s grandads always said before hopping around the room and inevitably pulling something? It was, of course it was. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

And when Eleven jumped up, Erik quick to follow into his arms, he decided it was the best thing. 

The space in their apartment was limited, too limited to dance properly. But they didn’t want to dance properly. They bounced back and forth, ran in circles around each other, Eleven staring at their feet to make sure they didn’t slam into the dresser, Erik staring at Eleven like nothing else mattered. 

As they grew exhausted, they switched to rocking together. Erik’s head rested on Eleven’s shoulder, Eleven’s on the rat’s nest of Erik’s hair. 

There were more steps to take, step by step, together, until they were old and grey. Marriage wasn’t the end, the stupid jokes Eleven always heard be damned. 

It was the beginning. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you liked it, please drop a kudos, or a comment if you're feeling brave! Even a smiley face to let me know you enjoyed it would make me very happy!  
> Please note that I have a beta, and do not wish to receive concrit from commenters at this time. Thank you for understanding ♡
> 
> [Tumblr](https://nedrynwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Feel free to comment/message me if you have questions! I love talking to you!


End file.
